The Letter M
by riana.zaza
Summary: Someone has been following Sherlock, but who is it? Someone from his past has come back to haunt him. R&R. No slash. :)


**Hey ya'll! I reviewed this and wasn't satisfied with the previous version of the one-shot. Im totally obsessed with BBC Sherlock right now xD I'm so sorry for the hiatus on my other story and I honestly don't know when I will ever be able to update it. Do tell me what you think of this :) Read & Review. 3**

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><p>Something was not right. He could feel it. Glancing back casually, he caught a glimpse of a shadow. It was definitely a female by the feminine shape. He did not want to deal with this right now. After The Woman, he was not in the mood to deal with females. He considered asking Mycroft as to why he had ordered a woman to follow him around, but dismissed the idea as quickly as it come to his mind. Mycroft would never be so blatantly obvious. Jim Moriarty as well. <em>Then who? <em>He let out a groan of frustration. Not having the answer was infuriating. Not being able to stand the confusion any longer, his walk came to a halt.

"You're not being very subtle, whoever you are." He waited for a response. Not getting one, he walked back to where he had seen the shadow. Intending to catch the person red-handed, he was sorely disappointed to find that there was no one there. He was about to turn and walk away when something caught his attention. He quirked an eyebrow. Letting out a sigh of frustration after a few minutes, he began walking back to his flat. He pondered the mystery of the stranger and her perfume as he walked.

-Line Break-

John met Sherlock at the flat just as he was exiting the taxi. He glanced at his friend who stalked up the stairs without a word of greeting to John. John was worried for Sherlock. He knew that Sherlock was a stranger to sentiment and heartbreak, and he was expecting an explosion anytime soon. He was just about to turn the doorknob when he felt a pressure on his wrist. He glanced down to see Sherlock's hand stopping him from opening the door. John sent a questioning look towards him, but was now a little wary, for Sherlock's instincts were almost always accurate. Sherlock put a finger to his lips and the both of them were now as silent as the night. That's when he heard it. A faint melody drifting from the room.

"_There's an ocean _

_Pouring from my eyes_

_One emotion rising like the tide_

_And there's nothing I can say_

_As I watch you drift away_

_On this ocean every tear I cry_

_Look what life did to me_

_I'm lucky to get out alive_

_The wound goes so deep_

_I took a bullet when you left my life"_

The song was unfamiliar to him and so was the female voice singing it. He looked at Sherlock's face again to see if he recognized it and was shocked at what he saw. Sherlock's face was ashen white and the fingers around his wrist had tightened so much until it had no longer become uncomfortable and was now painful. "Sherlock?" he called softly.

At hearing John's voice, Sherlock was shaken out of his stupor and was now wearing a similar scowl as before. He barged into the room with enough force to nearly slam the door against the wall. John's worries about his friend grew even more, for before Sherlock had moved, he had seen something he had never thought he would see associated with Sherlock. He had seen a hint of regret in Sherlock's expression. He followed Sherlock into the room and started to look for anything amiss in the room.

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><p>-Line Break-<p>

He was instantly suspicious. From the moment he heard the singing, his guard was put up. There shouldn't be any noise coming from the flat at all, since both him and John was out. The voice sounded distinctly _familiar_ yet, he couldn't put his finger on what exactly it was. It frustrated him to no end. He grumbled under his breath. He did not need another problem again, he already had enough. Just then, out of instinct, he grabbed John's wrist before he could open the door. It had finally dawned on him as to why the voice was so familiar. Indeed, he had heard it before. It was _her _voice._ She _had sung before. Before his mind became so analytical. Before their relationship was ruined, 9 years ago and _she _was never seen again.

He barged straight into the room, expecting to see her sitting in the living room, singing the song. Instead, there was no one there at all. His eyes swept across the room before something caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes and walked towards John's laptop. It was switched on, with a media file playing. At the corner of his eye, he saw John move with him, but his focus was entirely on his laptop. That's when Sherlock saw it. A little Post-It stuck to the screen, with words scrawled on it.

_Tsk tsk, dear brother. Getting so heartbroken over a lady. How unbecoming of you. _

_-xoxo, M._

Sherlock sucked in a breath and his eyes widened a bit. John's attention was drawn back to him. "Sherlock? Who's 'M'?" John inquired.

"'M'." He gave a dry laugh. The pieces had fallen in place. "Of course, there couldn't have been anyone else."

"Very good." A third voice piped up behind the two men. "You haven't changed since we last met, Sher. Still as smart as ever."

Both of their heads whipped back, to see a female standing in the doorway. She had wavy, black hair with streaks of red in them. She was wearing a ruby red halter top with black skinny jeans ending with a pair of heeled boots. She wore no jewellery save for the swan necklace draped on her neck. She had a smirk on her face as she leaned against the doorframe with crossed arms.

Sherlock let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. "Emilie?"

Emilie did a mock bow and said, "In the flesh."

"What are you doing here?" he snapped, as he glared at her.

"Where's My? I thought he would be here already." She asked, completely ignoring his question. She walked around the room, surveying it. Her disdain for the mess in the room was clear as she rolled her eyes at the experiments in the kitchen.

"What. Are. You. Doing. Here." He asked again, his patience running out. She again ignored his question, "You know, I was thinking of-"

"Answer the bloody question, Emilie!" Sherlock yelled. She looked at him, with an eyebrow raised. "The question isn't bloody, Sher." Sherlock let out a groan of frustration. He seemed to be doing that a lot lately. Emilie smirked again before replying in a drawling voice, "I'm here for the same thing I was here for the last time. You love riddles, don't you, Sher? Figure this one out." She moved to the door. "Oh and, tell My 'hi' from me won't you?" Without looking back, she left.

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><p>-Line Break-<p>

John was in shock. "You never told me you had a sister."

"It never came up." Came the curt reply.

"You told me about Mycroft, what's so different about your sister that you had to keep it from me?"

Sherlock ignored the question and texted Mycroft. "We have to be more careful from now on John."

"Why? Surely she can't be any different from you and Mycroft and the both of you can handle her. She's your _sister_."

Sherlock finally turned to face him and said, "She's a Holmes John. Nobody can control her."


End file.
